A brief sparklet composed from the floor of the pantry. I still have no idea when they are going to slam into my brain. I miss catching so many of them. They linger for a moment and if I don’t get them down… POOF! They dissolve into a million tiny bits of letter confetti and float away in the air like a speck of dust in the sunlight. I worry most that if I keep not catching them, they will think I don’t want them and they’ll stop coming around. Until then, here’s one I caught.
Why aren’t there words to say what’s there?
It’s all teeming beneath the surface.
The feelings burning underneath,
Attempting serves no purpose.
Things are just the way they are,
No symbiotic change.
Steeping in those circumstances,
Makes them no less strange.
One can choose to stay in it,
Stagnating ’til the end.
Or one can cast a different vision,
Broken hearts on the mend.
Do not depend on others outside,
They are stuck in the familiar.
If this change is sure to stick,
Good limits, one must configure.
Adhere to the changes that you want,
To make the days feel better.
Each day may not be perfect,
But at least it won’t be a dreader
So why can’t one express what’s there?
Not a single word is needed
Making moments better requires
Efforts internally seeded.
Sparks 